Infection
by Demon Hiei's Girl
Summary: In a world in ruins by an infection that slowly kills you by illness then raises you from the dead into a flesh devouring monster, an infected Matt tries to make a decision for Mello while they're stuck on the old, dusty trail that used to be LA.


**Title:** "Infection"

**By:** Melissa

**Fandom:** _Death Note_

**Pairing:** Matt/Mello

**Summary:** In a world in ruins by an infection that slowly kills you by illness then raises you from the dead into a flesh devouring monster, an infected Matt tries to make a decision for Mello while they're stuck on the old, dusty trail that used to be LA.

**Warnings:** AU, Zombie apocalypse goodness. Also, I'd just like to remind everyone that I am not really a writer. Just pretending for the moment so I can get this plot bunny out. Also, forgive the odd style I wrote this in. Those parentheses seemed like a good idea at the time!

_Standard Disclaimers Apply_

The infection had swept the nation in a way that no news station could have possibly predicted, though several had tried to before almost all the channels got cancelled due to insufficient staffing (leading cause of ditching work: death). Of course, there were still a few stations with fuzzy pictures and decent quality sound that tried to keep what little of the world was still listening up with the current events.

No one was really sure where the virus had come from (experiment gone wrong? God's wrath? Bubonic Plague's distant cousin that came back to finish the job?), or why it spread so fast. No one was really sure of anything any more, except for the fact that once you were sick there was no cure.

No cure, no hope, no future.

Not that anyone was sure what a future in a world like this would be like anyway.

Mello had felt confident at first. Once the news of the virus had went viral, he had formulated a bunch of strategies and plans. He pondered all the 'what ifs', and when the world got worse and worse, and the sickness got closer and closer to home, he kept provisions packed, never lingered in one area too long, and learned how to shoot an infected asshole that wanted a piece of him right between the eyes on the first try.

He didn't feel very guilty when he had to kill people to advance in the mafia where he used to hang around back when the country was normal (when the world was normal. When_ anything_ was normal.), so why would he feel guilty when the men on the other side of his gun barrel were rotting with glassy, empty eyes and lunging for his flesh?

Things changed though. Things always change when feelings are involved, and Mello knew his biggest weakness was getting too emotionally riled. His emotions had always been what drove him, but he had tried to cut out the incessant _do the right thing, what would Jesus do? You're a Catholic man, aren't you?_ nagging that always plagued the back of his mind.

Despite everything, he always managed to ignore his guilt as he guided his partner in crime (Former class mate? Fellow orphan? Lover? Best friend since childhood?) down the paths that he always hoped would lead to some kind of salvation despite how selfish both of them had been. But there always has to be an 'exception', and Mello's once stone cold resolve to plunge forward in whatever manner kept him alive (and _human_- really human) began to falter rapidly once Matt became noticeably infected.

At first, both genii had simply assumed from evidence they had noticed through their travels around the states (back when the Mercedes still functioned before running out of gas on a California road where there was a lot of dust and no gas stations or pit stops) that one 'became a goner once they were bitten by the dumbass that got bitten before them'- Matt's words, not his- but his redheaded companion was just as good as narrowly avoiding lethal contact with these cannibalistic monsters as he was, and still somehow seemed to slowly be suffering the same fate.

With a chill, Mello realized there were probably a lot more ways to get infected than either of them knew of at the present time, and the blond had really hoped his theory of the virus being spread through the air wasn't actually a fact.

After the Camero met an unfortunate end up a pole after a narrow U-turn around a bunch of, for lack of a better term, 'zombies' in the city, and the stolen Mercedes ran out of gas on a now abandoned and empty road, Mello and the pale (well... paler) Matt began a long trip on foot with unbearable Cali heat and Matt looking worse and worse as every minute ticked by.

At first neither of them were really sure if this was a sickness or _the_ sickness that was putting dark circles around the redhead's eyes and making his arms look bonier than Mello had ever seen them since they were kids. Matt used to be pretty toned and walked with a confident, laid back swagger. Now he walked hunched, hands deep in his pockets, and occasionally missing a step and losing his balance the way he was starting to drag. Unfortunately, however, it was starting to become all too clear just what was ailing his comrade.

Mello never willingly touched anyone who even so much as coughed in his presence these days, but he knew if Matt stopped walking any time soon, he'd have him thrown over his shoulder so they could persistently continue on.

And that thought scared him.

It scared him even more than the fact that they were just about out of food, and that they were growing weary and restless from the heat, and that they hadn't seen any form of life or trace of a building in hours. All they had at the moment was the setting sun, a wide open road, and each other's company, and Mello wasn't sure for how much longer the latter was going to be a reality.

Matt had been silent for over two hours. It was such an oddity that he didn't spew some witty jab at _something_ over the course of their miserable, hopeless journey that Mello had actually started timing his childhood friend's quiet routine in his head. (Something to distract him from going insane, at least that's how he was justifying the fact that he was trying to distract himself from the thought of his best friend dying from an illness that would make Mello have to kill him again.)

By hour three and a quarter, the once second in line prodigy of a detective that no one remembered found himself jerked out of his thoughts by the roar of a motorcycle (Harley, from the sound of it) quickly approaching. The blond had a few seconds to conjure up the nonsensical idea to stick out his thumb as a silent request to hitchhike just as the driver was about to pass them.

Just as Mello had realized from the speed of the bike that the driver had no intention of stopping to even question them (let alone help them), Matt had pulled out his gun with a lot less swagger than he used to and shot the driver square in the back of the head just as he passed, causing him to fall of the motorbike, which in turn lead to the bike taking an unexpected jab to the left and hitting a fire hydrant, denting the side considerably but luckily not damaging it to the point of ruining the motor as evidenced by the purr it gave off from the ditch it was now in.

"Matt!" Mello found himself shouting in surprise, turning to face Matt with accusation in his eyes. "What the fuck's gotten into you?"

"He should have worn a helmet," Matt grumbled as he half-strode, half-limped to the bike with the intent to set it back upright. Mello was almost annoyed at how good of a shot Matt had become once shooting had become a life skill.

"He wasn't even sick yet!" Mello protested once he got a good look at the body, not that he got close enough to touch it. Matt gave up trying to set the bike back upright looking like he just didn't have the strength, and instead settled for turning off the engine and scoping the saddle bag on the bike and the backpack on the former owner.

"The key word there is 'yet'!" Matt shouted, turning to glare at Mello before going back to rummage through the things in the motorcycle's saddle bag. Mello found himself biting his tongue for a moment, not really sure how to reply. It wasn't like Matt to be this argumentative with him. Matt rarely got angry enough to shout. He just said something sarcastic or let it roll off his back like Mello's problems didn't concern him. Things were taking a dramatic turn for the worse. Not that both of them didn't already know.

"It's not like you to just... kill someone in cold blood, Matt," Mello accused, voice dropping down to a whisper. _He_ killed in cold blood to save himself, not Matt.

"He wasn't even going to stop, let alone help us. He had no problem leaving us alone to die out here. Just sucks for him that I'm a good shot even like this. It's a kill or be killed world out there, and you and I both know it." The redhead paused from his cliche, self justified rant to pull something out of the saddle. "So the idiot _did_ have a helmet."

"Matt." Mello growled warningly. It wasn't like the redhead to take the initiative, and Mello found himself almost missing Matt's silence. "What are you up to?"

Matt approached Mello with a limp that made Mello uncomfortable for reasons that had nothing to do with his own safety, and halted with enough distance between them that Mello couldn't see the way Matt's eyes had gone so glassy they almost weren't familiar anymore.

"I'm naming our fallen comrade 'Unlucky Dumbfuck', and for the record, Unlucky Dumbfuck has a saddle full of enough provisions for you to make it to the next city. And a helmet. One I suggest you wear." He held out the helmet to Mello, but the blond just stared at it with a distasteful expression before yanking his head back up to glare at Matt with frustration that almost made the redhead feel like they were back home and that he had forgotten to do something trivial, like take the trash out or feed the dog.

"Are you implying that I should go alone?"

Matt couldn't help the dumbstruck expression he knew he must have adorned, despite the way the sickness had altered his face. "Uh, how's the best way to put this?" He scratched his head and turned around in his typical, over done thinking pose that almost made Mello forget he was talking to someone who was dying. "Oh how about... 'Duh!'"

"Matt."

"Mello, don't be stupid. You're a rank higher than me, so I know if I'm on to something, then no fucking doubt you've already figured it out for yourself. There is no way I'm making it out of this thing. I'm getting sicker by the hour, and even if we stumbled upon a place with a cure- which you and I both know is just a fairy tale anyway- I am too far gone to be saved. Once I drop dead, I become an instant liability. You _hate_ liabilities!"

"I don't hate _you_!" Mello retorted lamely.

"Yeah, well, we'll see how much you like me when I'm gnawing off your kneecap for dessert." Matt found himself turning away and running his fingers through his bangs in a way Mello only saw him when he was truly nervous.

Before Mello could think of anything to say that would end the awkward silence, Matt dropped his arms to his side and turned to him with the most defeated look Mello had ever seen on him. "Look. Mel. We all know the road ends for me here. But if you keep me alive for sentimental reasons, I'm just going to chase you down when... when I'm not _me_ anymore. And there is nothing else out here. Nothing. It'd just be you and my corpse running around until you decided to end it. And I'd rather say goodbye to you like this than have your last memory of me be of you shooting me before I eat you, you know?"

Mello had to look down, glaring at the sand underneath his designer boots, and he realized just how meaningless his whole life had been up until this point. Nothing mattered. No one on this earth was needed. No one was special. And it wasn't until he realized that he was saying goodbye forever to the one constant in his life that he realized he had truly no hope left.

He wasn't even sure he believed in God anymore.

"Mel," Matt tried again, softer this time. Mello hated the look of desperate love he was giving him. It was an expression he only got to see a few times before this moment, and it used to be something that elated his whole being and made butterflies flutter in his chest. Now it was just scaring him. "Please. Just go. I'm not going to ask you to kill me, if you don't want to. If you leave me here, I'll die, I'll turn, and I'll have no one to prey on. If it's even possible to die in that state, then I'll die out here alone in the most painless option I have left. The only choice I get to make from here on out is how I get to say goodbye to you, and I want that to be on my own terms. So please just go."

Mello felt his eyes stinging, and he knew if looks could kill, there would be many daggers in the sand where he had consistently been glaring since the redhead went off on his little tangent. He was hurt, and confused, and just angry. For one selfish moment, he really felt like if there was a God, He must hate him for all the shit he put him through (what with being an orphan who was always second best and all that.) Once he realized what a self centered prick he was acting like, he could have punched himself. As sad as he was that he was losing his best friend, it hadn't occurred to him that he was leaving the most important person in the world to him to die alone in a desert while he rode a Harley that wasn't even his style into the sunset to do God knows what alone until he himself died from whatever it was that would eventually put him down for good.

"...Matt," was all that he could muster at the moment as he stumbled the 3 feet in front of him, trying to reach for Matt's shoulders in lieu of the helmet his childhood best friend and adulthood lover was holding out to him, but he was swifter than Mello gave him credit for, dropping the helmet safely to the side and grabbing the blond's shoulders, successfully keeping them about two feet apart and halting Mello's foiled goodbye kiss.

Matt gave him a sincere, yet sad, smile. "Please don't." Mello hasn't heard Matt say 'please' this much in his whole life, not even when they were children. "Neither of us know exactly how this gets in you enough to... to do whatever the hell this is." He indicated to his own body for emphasis Mello really didn't need. "I don't think swapping spit with a future zombie is a good idea. Not that I don't want to, believe me."

"Don't call yourself a 'zombie', stupid!" Mello growled, icy eyes narrowing as he tried to stark forward anyway. He slapped at Matt's chest in a frustrated manner, and Matt just let him. "I've always done what I wanted, even if all hope seemed lost. Don't you go trying to tell me what's best for me." Without giving Matt a moment to react, Mello wrapped his arms around Matt's neck and preceded forward, kissing Matt fiercely in a way they hadn't made out in ages. He twirled their tongues together, he nipped possessively at Matt's lips, and kept them both breathless while refusing to part, staying on the offensive until Matt stumbled back far enough that the back of his ankles hit the motorbike and they found themselves falling and collapsing into the ditch as an awkward threesome (if you count the bike).

"I'm not leaving you," Mello panted, now on top of Matt, sandwiching him between himself and the motorcycle. "I don't care what that means for us. If you're going to die, then I have no reason left to survive. If kissing you means risking infection, well, I certainly fear what's going to come from the body fluids that'll be inside me the next time we fuck. But it's not going to stop me from proceeding forward anyway. Life is always going to try and drag me down, and I accept that, but I believe in going down fighting, not taking some pussy way out. And I expect you to both understand and accept that."

Matt just stared up at Mello silently for several long moments with glassy eyes that lost their original color, but still oozed with a sense of familiarity that Mello longed for. It was like he had no idea how to react, but finally settled on a mixture of incredulous and amused. After throwing his head back and feigning a long, overdramatic groan, he stood back up with only minor difficulty, helping the blond back up to his feet. "You're such a pain in the ass."

"I don't know what's going to become of us," Mello admitted quietly, growing more serious as he helped Matt pull the bike back up right. "Obviously neither of us are going to make it out of this thing. It's like fate is against us. But I do know there is no point in playing a game if there's no hope of winning. And this is the type of losing game that just isn't worth the adventure if I have to make it alone."

Matt's teasing demeanor melted away as quickly as it came back, and he nodded gravely. "Fine, fine. Take me with you. But if we're going on a suicide mission, at least let me drive."

Mello opened his mouth to protest, but Matt wouldn't let him, continuing on, "And you are wearing the helmet."

Unlucky Dumbfuck had a duffle bag of makeshift provisions that was strapped to the second seat of the Harley, which Matt quickly did away with, taking the greatest of the necessities from Dumbfuck's backpack and the duffle and cramming it into the extra room of the saddle now that the helmet was no longer taking up space.

Mello grudgingly got on after Matt, wrapping his arms around his middle and resting his cheek against the redhead's back. It had been a long time since they were intimate. At first, Mello was wary to even go near Matt, and likewise, Matt didn't even attempt to go near him. But once Mello realized that Matt was avoiding him all on his own, the blond felt a lonely emptiness he hadn't felt since his parents died. Surprisingly, being close- reckless as it was- felt so much better. He almost wished Matt would get too sick to keep control of the bike so they'd crash and both die together the way they were right now. But he knew better. Matt was the better driver by far, even though he hated to admit it. And irresponsible as the redhead could be, he always took measures to do his part to protect Mello to the point where it was second nature. Needless to say, it was a wish that would more than likely go unfulfilled, and Mello wasn't even sure what to hope for anymore.

They drove in silence for the longest hour and a half of Mello's life, just taking in the empty scenery until they made it to what looked like was once a small town. There were empty shops and quiet streets. No people. No remains of people. Just a ghost town. Matt eventually parked and got off the bike, and Mello followed suit, both grabbing their guns since one could never be sure. Quiet didn't always mean clear, even though the place looked completely evacuated.

"There's a sport shop right over there," Matt said, pointing in the abandoned building's general direction. Once Mello had the helmet off, he could see how much worse Matt looked. The redhead was breathing heavily and looked nauseous.

"You don't even like sports," Mello said curtly, rolling his eyes and trying to calm himself down mentally. He didn't like to panic; panicking was for amateurs, not survivors. "Can't you make yourself useful and pick out a store that looks like it sells chocolate?"

Matt reloaded his hand gun and shrugged. "I'm sure there's a place here somewhere. I doubt the townspeople in all their arm flailing and freaking out started grabbing _chocolate_ in desperation."

Mello glowered, but paused when his partner started making his way towards the sport shop. "Where are you going?"

"There's probably helmets in there. Duh."

"And why do you need a helmet? Honestly, Matt, you're acting so damn stupid."

"Safety first."

Mello kicked up some dirt in frustration and stalked over to Matt, grabbing him by the arm. "There's no one around here. I doubt there's another looney like you waiting around for someone to hijack."

"Then you're not as smart as Mr. Wammy gave you credit for."

Mello couldn't help himself and smacked Matt across the face. It was far from a full powered punch, but enough to sting and hopefully rattle some common sense into his best friend. "Shut up. Don't you do this. Don't you get me pissed at you right now. It's hard enough to think without your mind games, and I just don't have the energy or the focus for this kind of bullshit."

"...I know," Matt admitted, exhaling and looking up towards the sky. It would be dark soon. "I just don't want someone to shoot me while I'm on the bike. If I crash, then I could accidentally kill you. Plus, then if I... turn... it'll be one more obstacle between you and my teeth."

"I told you to _shut up_!" Mello covered his ears with his hands and turned away, heading back towards the parked bike. Matt faltered for just a second before running after Mello and grabbing his wrist.

"Mels. Come on. Just humor me. If you want to go scour the place for chocolate while you wait, be my guest, just take a gun and be careful." He tried to smirk. "And be patient enough to give me a few extra minutes in there, because if they still have some helmets, I want to pick out one that makes me look cool."

Mello found himself melting in a way that only Matt was successful in achieving out of him, and turned around, wrapping his arms around the redhead's middle. "It's impossible for you to look cool."

"Ouch, my self esteem."

Mello smiled minutely, despite himself, and repositioned himself so he could peck Matt on the lips. "Hurry back, okay?"

"No promises," Matt grinned, kissing Mello one more time before heading back in the direction of the shop. The blond felt his heart ache and couldn't bring himself to look for chocolate or any other provisions. He figured in fifteen or so minutes Matt would wander back out holding some ridiculous little girl unicorn helmet or something that would just encourage Mello to punch his lights out, and then they'd either leave this creepy place or stay just long enough to grab some useful shit. Whichever seemed more appealing once Matt finished scoping the place out.

What Mello didn't know was that once Matt had finished exploring around the shop, confirming there was no one around, living or sick, yet also confirming there was unfortunately no helmets in sight, the redhead began to hack up some blood, holding on to the check out counter to steady himself as he coughed and wheezed until he could breathe again. A puddle of dark, almost black blood lingered on the floor as proof that Matt was reaching his limits, and it didn't take a genius to know he didn't have much longer.

Matt looked at the gun in his hand which suddenly felt so heavy, and weighed his options. He tried to take a step and stumbled, slipping in his own blood and collapsing into a small shelf (flashlight keychains? Really?) and fell to the floor in a heap. This was degrading and pathetic, and this is not how he wanted to be remembered. Making his decision, he struggled to stand up and cock his gun, aiming it at the one body part that guaranteed to keep the dead lying down. "Safety first."

Right before he pulled the trigger, he mentally apologized to everyone he knew that would be disappointed in him. His parents, his teachers, L, God, ...Mello. Then everything went black.

Mello, still leaning on the bike, looked up like a deer in the headlights when he heard the loud bang of a gunshot. He readied his own weapon, wondering if Matt was really alone in there. He waited for a few seconds to see if Matt would dash out of the building, but he never came. Mello realized the redhead really didn't have the energy to 'dash', though, so he waited a little longer just in case. Seconds turned to minutes, and the blond felt another unwelcome chill curl down his spine when he saw no sign of his friend.

He ran towards the entrance of the shop, shouting the redhead's name, but hearing nothing in reply. He called out a few 'Is someone there?'s and some 'Hello?'s, but nothing moved, shifted, or replied.

Mello realized he was alone. And that could only mean one thing.

The blond refused to give up on either of their lives and searched the entire shop with fervor he didn't even realize he had left in him until he saw just enough to confirm his suspicions. Piles of knocked over 'last minute buy' accessories, bloodied self checkout machines that no longer turned on, dirty jeans and boots Mello would recognize anywhere.

Mello had to turn around, gloved hand over his mouth as he felt his eyes sting again, though he really didn't want to cry. Crying was unmanly, crying didn't solve anything, but his body was a treacherous thing that always allowed his emotions to run rampant in a way he long stopped trying to conquer. He couldn't bring himself to get a good look. He didn't want one.

The five minute walk from the shop back to the parked bike took Mello twenty, and he slumped down on the dusty road right next to it just... waiting. Waiting for what, he really wasn't sure. Waiting to die, waiting to live. Waiting to see if Matt would rise anyway despite the redhead's own best efforts to suppress it, even though he never did. No other zombie emerged forth to come get him either.

Tears had long since dried, and by the time darkness fell, Mello realized that this is where his journey was going to end. He loaded his beretta (his personal favorite gun that he had since his mafia days, but stopped using since it was low on ammo) and stood up on legs that he refused to acknowledge were shaky.

He checked his watch. Scowling, he realized it was broken since it read 2:32 PM, but he had no other time of reference to go by. He was pretty sure it was January 26th, but the Cali heat just didn't seem appropriate for winter weather. The silence was unsettling, and this just not seemed like the way 'Mello' was supposed to die. He had always imagined going out in an explosion, raw and messy. Fighting until the end.

But maybe going quietly was the way 'Mihael Keehl' was supposed to go. And that thought calmed him down enough to steadily put the gun up to his own temple and pull the trigger.

**Author's note:** It's been such a long time since I pretended to know how to write fanfiction. And I was never very good at writing MxM. But after watching some zombie movies and getting into an AU kind of mood, this plot bunny came to me while listening to Lady Gaga's "Marry the Night", and I thought I'd try to write it out since I didn't have time to draw the scene. I was originally going to end it with them riding off into the sunset with their future left ambiguous, but it didn't seem right because I knew Matt wouldn't just let Mello keep him around if it put him in danger. For those of you who are curious, I made Matt be the one infected as opposed to Mello because in canon, Matt didn't die because of the Death Note, so he was fated to die on January 26th anyway. Technically it was Mello who died before his time, so it only seemed fitting that even in another universe where the Death Note may or may not have actually existed, Matt would still die on his fated day, and Mello would react appropriately. Anyway, I hope it was somewhat enjoyable, depressing as it was! It wasn't supposed to be this long (oneshots are hard!), but like I said before, writing really isn't my strong suit. Hopefully it was a good read regardless. xxoo


End file.
